Release
by Protected by a Silver Spoon
Summary: Daryl and Beth navigating their relationship once the group is safe in Alexandria.
1. Chapter 1

He's been having trouble breathing. The two years of constant vigilance have left him keyed up, always on edge. Now, when he finally can relax he really can't. He's still waiting, waiting to have to jump up and run. Waiting for the next lost person. He doesn't see it in the rest of the group, the same unease. They have all fallen back into the comfort of familiarity, he doesn't have that here. The only time he's not completely suffocated by his ingrained feelings of alienation is when he's with her. He knows that she can see it, how he doesn't really fit in, how hard it is for him to pretend he's not more uncomfortable now that they're not fighting for their lives.

It starts off with constant nearness, it would be innocent enough, except for the heat in both of their eyes. They both know, what they want, what they're missing.

Beth makes the first move. It's a quiet night, sitting by a bonfire, she moves close enough that their knees are touching and laces her fingers in-between his. In the flickering light she can see his shoulders relax and can feel some of the tension seep out of his body. She watches the sideways glances he sends her way and lets her thumb rub little circles against his hand. He keeps listening to Rick, who didn't even raise an eyebrow at her boldness.

It gets more comfortable everyday. Daryl seeks her out, it isn't hard to do, they all live in one row of townhouses. His cautious hands reach out to rest on her shoulder until she takes his hand in hers. Each time their skin makes contact Beth can feel a rush of air forced out of him, like he had been holding his breath since the last time they touched.

He's a little more calm, at ease, when he gets back from hunting. Before he goes out, no matter what time it is, he uses the key she slid into his hand. Daryl toes off his boots inside her front door and silently pads past Maggie and Glenn's room to duck into hers. He whispers in his low, gravelly voice that he's going out and waits for her to squeeze his wrist and mumble back for him to be safe before heading back out the door and past the fences that keep them protected.

It's been a few months. Months of safety. Months of quietly sought out comfort. Months of hesitant kisses and gentle touches.

Beth has started staying at his place. He carried her few boxes of clothes into the bedroom and told her she could have the closet. He didn't have anything in it anyway. That first night, the first time she fell asleep with her body curled against his since those few cold nights out in the woods, he couldn't sleep. He was up nearly the whole night just looking at her. Trying to figure out how he ended up here, how he gets to have this life.

The first time they have sex is awkward. She's nervous and so is he. He finds that even though she somehow keeps his loneliness at bay, being with her leaves him with a different kind of fear. Daryl is just starting to realize how wrong he was when he told her he wasn't afraid.

His hands, despite their size and strength, are timid and a bit unsure every time he touches her. He's never had something this real, this good before and he's terrified that one misplaced finger, one pinched piece of skin, one accidental tug on her hair, could send her skittering away. He looks up at her face each time he shifts position, each time he fingers her waistband, just waiting for the time she shakes her head and tells him no. Each time his calloused thumb rubs over her smooth skin, he waits to hear her tell him to stop. Each time she presses against him at night he keeps as still as he can manage, waiting for her to tell him what to do, too unsure and too nervous to determine his own course of action.

He's so used to having someone there telling him what to do that it's overwhelming to have to figure it out on his own. His father's drunken orders, Merle's constant criticism and egging on, Rick's encouragement and acceptance… he's never been good at doing things on his own, he's always needed someone to push him along, one way or another. Now, here he is, in this safe place, where they can just live and do what they want and he doesn't know how. He doesn't know what to want or how to get it or how to explain how scared he is that he will never fit in like the rest of his family. He thinks she can see it, that crack in his armor and the yellowed underbelly of fear and ineptitude.

Beth guides his hand to her breast, she softly kisses the side of his neck and runs her fingertips along his sides. She gives him whispers and moans of encouragement, trying her best to get him to settle in to their closeness. Trying to get him to relax and give up the thought that he could ever do anything that would make her leave him again.

She's started climbing on top of him, ever since she noticed the way his pupils dilated that first time she tried it. He bites his lip and groans when she lowers herself onto him, his hand goes from lining them up to resting on her hip. It's better this way, he hardly moves his hips, but she can see how much more comfortable he is with her having more control over their movements.

Beth has gotten bolder in her actions with him. She swings herself over him and her knees land hard on his wrists.

"Oh! Sorry!"

The words are hardly out of her mouth before she starts to move off of him. She looks down and he's pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, the surprise and arousal in his eyes makes her whole body ache for him. Daryl is pulling in deep breaths, his dick is rock hard and twitching underneath her. She knows full well how strong he is, how easily he could move her if he wanted to, Beth shifts more of her weight onto him, pushing his arms down into the mattress. The pressure on the inside of his wrists lifts the heavy weight off his chest like some kind of lever and, for the first time he can remember, he can really breathe.

She watches his chest, the way it shudders as it expands. She touches the sensitive lines of red, puckered skin under his collar bone and on his ribs. The tingling sensation of her hands on him combined with the release he feels from being pinned underneath her has him trembling. He's struggling not to cum.

His dick is leaking, she can feel it on her ass, the wetness seeping through her thin panties. He's never reacted to her this intensely or so quickly before and she's trying to memorize every detail she can. She gasps when he bucks up against her.

"Daryl,"

He can't look at her, he squeezes his eyes shut and opens them, focusing on the freckle on her hip, trying desperately to hold back… trying to wait until… until... he doesn't know what.

Her voice is lower than usual, it's the same tone she uses when he's inside her, "Daryl, look at me."

He glances up at her, she holds his gaze.

"It's okay, you can…finish. You can cum."

And that was it, what he was waiting for. He bucks up against her twice and that's all it takes. Beth stays where she is, watching his eyes clench shut and his body shake. She can feel his dick still twitching as it goes soft under her. She moves off him when his breathing starts to even out and reaches off the side of the bed for his t-shirt to clean his stomach. She slips off her panties and then lays down beside him.

"Beth." His voice breaks a little as he forces one arm underneath her and pushes his face into her neck.

"It's alright," She takes his other arm and rubs the red mark that her knee made. "It's alright."

He breathes in the scent of her, thinking only about the way she feels next to him. He believes her.


	2. Chapter 2

He sleeps in late the next morning. It's not like him, he's usually up before the sun, just like her father always was. He stays asleep when she slides out of bed to make breakfast. She's got the eggs ready to plate when he finally makes it into the kitchen.

"Good mornin'." She puts a plate at his spot at the table.

"Mornin'." His voice is rough with sleep. It was the longest he'd slept in years. Beth smiles and watches him add a bit of sugar to his coffee before he sits next to her. The first time she had set the table with them across from each other and he switched chairs when she went to get them drinks. She always sets their places next to each other now.

"Must feel pretty good sleeping in. I don't think I've ever seen you sleep past sunrise."

"Mmm. Musta needed it." He shovels food into his mouth. "Gotta go on a perimeter check with Rick." Daryl downs some coffee, "Headed to the east wall. The far one."

"Alright." Beth is content to watch him. His movements are always fluid, it seems like every little twitch has some intent. She's unsure if she should bring up the night before, the way he reacted, it feels like something that needs to be acknowledged. "Last night…"

His eyes flicker up to hers, momentarily gauging her expression. "Mmhmm." He's shifting in his seat, looking around the room.

"Is that… something…" She takes a deep breath and reaches to still the hand jiggling his fork. "Daryl. I… I liked it too."

"Mmm." He still isn't looking at her, but she can see the flush of embarrassment climbing up his neck.

Beth turns his hand over, exposing the beginning of a bruise on his inner wrist, his eyes lock down on her fingers ghosting over the discolored skin. "Sorry, about the marks." She lifts his hand and presses her lips to the thin skin just under the heel of his palm.

"S'alright."

He pulls his hand away and stands up. Puts his plate in the sink and finishes the coffee. "I gotta get goin'."

She sighs, knows he's running away from the conversation. "Okay, be safe."

He hovers over her for a minute, watching the way she moves her food around her plate, "Beth?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks… for…" He takes in a deep breath, "that." He nods a little and bends down to kiss her. "I'll see you later."

Rick had dropped Judith off with Maggie and Glenn went with him and Daryl. When Beth goes into their house she is greeted by a squeal of excitement. Maggie is cleaning the kitchen, she offers Beth coffee. The time without it left them all craving the caffeine. They sit at the table while Judith plays in her playpen.

"So, how's it been, living in sin?"

Beth blushes, "Maggie!"

"I'm just teasin' Beth. But really, how is it, with Daryl?"

She smiles as she shrugs, "It's good. Really good."

"I'm happy for you. Him too. He needs… something good." Maggie flashes back to his panicked search, his determination to find Beth, even when they were in that train car. "So do you."

"Do you think daddy wou…"

Maggie reaches out to her sister. "Daddy trusted him. Daryl knows right from wrong, he stands for what he believes in. He made it through a lot." She sighs a little, "Daddy told Glenn… that no man could be good enough for his daughter, until one was. I think… that Daryl, he's definitely good enough."

Beth nods, blinking back tears. "He is."

She helps Maggie with some housework and then gets Judith down for her nap. They take lunch out onto the back porch.

"Can I ask you something? Something… private?" Beth feels her cheeks heat up.

"Of course! What is it? Do you need condoms? Are you and Daryl…"

"Maggie!"

"Okay, okay. What?"

"When you and Glenn… have sex… who's… who'sincharge?"

Maggie glares at her, "Is he making you do something you don't wanna do? I'll kill him Bethy."

"No! Not at all. I was just wondering, about different… dynamics."

"Oookay. Like positions? Like you on top? Or doggie style?"

"Kinda…"

"Glenn likes doggie style. It's not bad I guess, I'd rather see his face than the pillows though."

Beth knows she's not going to get what she wants from this conversation.

It dawns on her that she hadn't missed the internet before this very moment, leaving Maggie's house after hearing way to much about her sister's sex life. All she knows about what happened last night, the look on Daryl's face and the way it all made her feel, is that it's going to happen again. There is a small library, one block over. It's her only option.

She ducks in to the small building, grateful she's not on a first name basis with the former high school gym teacher acting as librarian. She spends the afternoon combing through the sparsely filled shelves, all she ends up with is a battered copy of Gerald's Game. She shoves it back on the shelf after the first few pages and scurries out the door, avoiding any eye contact.

* * *

Daryl, Rick, and Glenn left the inside walls and made their way to the outer fences. An area on the east side needed the spikes cleared. They made quick work of the job. Daryl is grateful for the mindless work, the lack of surprises. He's unfocused, still feeling the twinge of guilt and shame from the night before, for not being able to talk to her this morning.

They're walking back, along the well-kept dirt pathway that leads to the colony. Glenn's ahead of them, looking for some flower Maggie likes.

"How's Beth?"

Rick's voice snaps him to attention.

He shifts his crossbow on his back, "She's good."

"How're you?"

That question is harder to answer, "G…okay." He sighs, "Still getting settled in, I guess."

"You mean with her?"

"Nah, just here." Daryl looks around, stilling himself from taking a shot at the squirrel he sees out of the corner of his eye. "The stuff with her, s'easy. Ain't had anything like it before."

"She's good for you."

"Mmhmm."

"You love her?"

Rick's straightforward question throws him, but his answer slips out anyway. "Mmhmm."

"Tell her yet?"

"Not yet."

"You should tell her. I shoulda told… just shoulda said it more."

"Mmm, ain't good at that stuff."

"I know, do it anyway." Rick looks up at Glenn back tracking to them and changes the subject, leaving Daryl to listen to some plan to get the other generators up so everyone can have hot water.


	3. Chapter 3

She's back home, rechecking their rations and rotating the few canned goods they each keep in their packs. It's hard to concentrate, all she can keep on her mind is the look on his face and the desperately relieved way he said her name. She remembers her friends talking about sex, about how it would feel, whether or not it would hurt. They talked about what they'd be wearing, where they would be. They never talked about how to handle this. How to handle having someone want this, how to handle yourself when you realized you liked it too.

The door opens and she knows it him. She can hear the thud of his boots hitting the hardwood floor and the way he clears his throat a little too loud instead of calling out to see if she's there.

"Hey, I'm in the kitchen."

Daryl walks up to her and kisses the side of her head. "Hey, how's Lil' Asskicker doing? Maggie?"

"They're good, how was it out there?"

He shrugs, "Same as always."

They're quiet, he watches her move around the kitchen as she gets dinner ready.

"You don't gotta cook all the time, for me, I mean." His voice is soft, concerned.

"It's alright Daryl. I like it." She slides a plate in front of him and smooths his hair out of his face. "I like this, you."

"Mmm. Me too."

She doesn't bring it up again that night, her constant thoughts of the night before. When they finally crawl into bed together it's like they've been transported back to that awkward first time together. Their words and actions are stilted. She can feel him pulling away, shrinking down small inside himself. Daryl hardly looks at her until she tugs on the hem of his shirt. He takes it off and drops it next to him on the bed. He watches as Beth takes the worn out cotton shirt between her hands.

As she twists the fabric in her hand she remembers back to when they found each other. How he still had rope burn on his wrists and bindings on his ankles, the lasting remnants of an awful black eye and reddened skin on the sides of his mouth. She thinks back to the first quiet moment they had together, sitting by a small campfire. She remembers kneeling down in front of him and untying the frayed pieces of nylon that were chafing his skin. She remembers how he kept his eyes on her and seemed to let the rest of the world slip away.

He's watching her like that now. He watches her reach for his hand and lift it to her mouth to lay a kiss on the mark she didn't intend to leave there. He watches her twist the shirt into a figure eight and slip one loop over his wrist.

"Is this okay?"

Daryl can feel his cock twitch with the almost insignificant amount of pressure he feels. He swallows down the lump in his throat and nods. Beth reaches over him for his other hand and repeats the process. She lays them down on his stomach while she moves to undress.

He doesn't try to move, the shirt isn't really doing anything to keep him restrained, but the way he's laying there, it might as well be a pair of handcuffs. Daryl doesn't take his eyes off her while she strips down, he hardly even blinks. Just silently watches her pull that tank top over her head and unclip her bra. She steps out of her jeans and panties in one movement and climbs onto him. Beth presses her smaller body over the length of his.

His bound hands reach up from resting on his chest to touch the side of her face. The look in his eyes is more open and relaxed than she has ever seen from him. She can't explain what it is about seeing him like this, but it makes her body ache for him. She feels the heat in her pelvis and can't stop her muscles from clenching in anticipation of him. All it takes is an awkward stretch for her to line them up. She memorizes the slight groan he makes at her touch before lowering herself down onto him.

Beth shifts against him, rotates her hips, feels every inch of him before setting a slow rhythm. She uses one hand to pull on his hip and encourage him to move with her while the other keeps his hands still on his chest. She notices then, that his eyes are still open, still on her. It's the first time he's been able to look at her, other than short glances, while they're having sex. She looks down and lets her body tighten around him, she's getting close.

"Beth…" His voice is strained and rough.

"Not yet." So is hers.

Daryl nods and pulls his lip into his mouth, keeping the pace she set.

She can feel how close he is, the way he feel just a little more swollen inside her, the way he's fighting to keep her rhythm.

She realizes he's holding back because she told him to.

Her orgasm hits her hard. Her body is pulsing and all the air is pushed out of her chest. She collapses on top of him, hardly feeling his still hard dick slide out of her. She's just starting to come down, to catch her breath...

"Beth. Please…" He moans through his teeth.

His breath is coming in harsh pants. Half of the time he exhales her name. He's opening and closing his fisted hands.

"Oh!" She reaches down and takes him, throbbing and still sex slick, in her hand. She slides her fist along his length once. "Okay, you can cum."

He thrusts up into her hand and lets her name take over the grunt that escapes his lips as he shoots all over his stomach.

It takes time for him regain some form of composure. Beth cleans her hand and him, Daryl's still shaking a bit, rubbing his face on his shoulder. He hasn't moved his hands from where she put them, still held together on his chest even though he's turned onto his side.

"Are you alright?"

"Gotta itch."

Beth sits next to him on the bed and gently scratches the side of his nose. He turns and kisses the palm of her hand. She moves to take the t-shirt off his wrists.

"Beth, wait."

She stills and lets her fingertips touch his.

"Mmm?"

"I wanna… it's easier like this…" He forces his mouth closed and pulls a a deep, steadying breath in through his nose. Daryl looks up from their semi-intertwined fingers and into her big blue eyes. "I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

She has never heard his voice sound like it does then.

She has heard him quiet and serious. She's heard him rude and sarcastic, witty and joking, angry and drunk, guilty and sad, but she's never heard him the way he is right then.

The honesty he's showing her brings tears to her eyes.

The careful way his lips form each syllable, the quiet truth in his tone, she knows he's pulling the words out of some caged in part of himself. The three short words are not easily doled out, not from him. He's handled them so delicately, like they would fall unwanted to the floor and shatter into a mess he would have to clean up, a dust pan filled with tiny unrecognizable shards of

_hopetrusthappytogetherfamilycaringkisshugholdwarmthwantneedpleasethankyou._

Beth can't help but wonder what has happened any other time he tried, if he ever even did try, to give those words to anyone. She can see uncertainty peering back at her, but it's serving as a veil for cautious hope.

'I love you's' were plentiful in her house. She heard it before school and before bed. She heard it when she happy and when she was sad. She heard it when they were proud of her and when they weren't. She knew her family loved her and they knew she loved them.

She knows that her sister means it when she says it, she knows her parents and brother did too. She knows Rick and Carl and Glenn and Michonne aren't just spitting it out for something to say. She knows Carol meant it, and Lori too.

Beth has never believed anyone as much as she does Daryl Dixon.

She pulls in a deep breath and watches him, his eyes settled on her, but nervously darting from spot to spot on her face. She takes his hands and frees them before nudging him to sit up. He follows her lead, sits naked across from her on their bed. His chin is twitching as he worries his lip, she reaches out to still him.

"I love you, Daryl."

He tries so hard not to let the breath he was holding in come out like a sigh of relief, but it does anyway.

Beth watches his face turn from a concerned frown to a smile. She watches the way he ducks his head to hide his eyes, but she already caught the tears welling up in them. She watches him push his hair out of his face and roughly wipe his eyes in one motion.

Daryl clears his throat, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

He silently detangles himself from her early the next morning, before the sun comes up. He's practiced at the art of dressing in the dark. He's only lived there in the townhouse a few months but he knows exactly how to avoid the creaky floor board and how to close the closet door, you have to lift it a bit, so it doesn't squeak. He moves along the sides of the room, staying in the darkest shadows. His feet are quiet and he barely rustles his inside-out shirt.

These are things you have to learn, to make yourself as quiet and invisible as you can. It's great for dealing with walkers, essential for hunting too. It's also great for sneaking out after a drunken one night stand, for leaving a room full of methed out rednecks, or moving around the house while the old man is passed out on the couch. Tiptoeing around your own house, fading into the background, into yourself.

"I'm going hunting." He kisses her head, "I'll be back."

It's his quiet voice that halfway wakes her up. "Be safe."

There's a bit of a fog just starting to burn off as the sun rises. Daryl's got one rabbit, he needs at least one more for a decent stew. They could take a chicken, one of the older ones from the back coop, but he's been trying to leave those for the people who can't hunt, the people with kids.

He knows he's distracted, things with Beth are seeping into the front of mind right when he needs them to stay in the back. He's making too much noise in the leaves. But he can't explain why the ratty shirt wrapped around his wrists gave him the ability to tell her what he's been trying to show her for months. He can't explain but he thinks that somehow, giving her that power takes away any claim that has ever been staked on him. She just seamlessly slid in, she just took over and he just let her. It feels like he always thought it would, giving yourself to someone.

He used to think about it a lot, just belonging to someone. At first, when he was little, it was his mom. He would imagine that her too rough, drunken hugs could just cover him up, keep him safe. As he got older the image changed. Merle always had too many cheap skin mags around, so did his dad. Once in while there would be a shot or two, never more than three, of a girl all done up in leather on top of some guy all tied up. He tore out those pages and kept them under his stained, second hand mattress. He wanted it so bad. It's better than he thought it would be, different. Better because it's not just some girl all done up in leather, different because it's her. Better because he's not just letting her be in control, different because he's trusting her. Better because she's not taking advantage of him, different because she's taking care of him. He doesn't know how to tell her any of that. He just doesn't know how to explain all that to her, how to tell her that it's just something ingrained and twisted up with the rest of him.

He hits the next cottontail right through the eye.


	5. Chapter 5

She had used the shirt again. Put his hands behind his back, looped them together, and pushed him down into the pillows. She let her touch linger across his body while she knelt in-between his spread legs. She had teased gentle scratches along the sensitive insides of his thighs and followed them with feather-light kisses. Her teeth nipped and her tongue flicked over every eager inch of skin. His hips rose up to every bit of teasing contact until he was finally buried inside her. Beth's hand had tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck to balance herself in his lap. She moved off when she knew he was right on the edge, left Daryl gasping and bucking his hips into the air just below her hand, his whole body pleading for friction. He came with barely a brush of her fingertips.

"I want to talk about last night."

He had come back from clearing the fence line to dinner ready and waiting. Nothing special, just their everyday rations and some venison from their stash. Beth had set the table, everything all laid out. It was her way of trying to ease him into conversation.

"Mmhmm." He eyes drop down to the table. Their plates are empty, he doesn't have any action to hide behind.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I didn't think I would like something like that, I mean I never really thought about before, I guess." She sighs, "It's kinda embarrassing to talk about…"

He huffs out a laugh, "Yeah."

"I mean… I guess I just want to understand… what you want?" She nervously wrings her hands together, "Why you want it?"

"I dunno." His words are clipped.

She looks up at him, right into his eyes. "Don't do that. Don't shut me down like that."

Her accusation riles him up, brings him over the edge from nervous to defensive. His voice is a harsh spit of words, "What the hell you want me t'say?"

"I never expected this! I'm trying to figure it all out just like you are."

"So figure it out then. Lemme know what you come up with, 'cause I been tryin' for thirty-six years." He stands and practically throws his chair into the table.

"Daryl!"

"M'not doing this, Beth."

She's suddenly furious at him, at everything. "This isn't how I pictured my life! I'm not even twenty, I'm supposed to be in college! I'm supposed to have my family! I was supposed to wait till I got married and now I'm living with someone twice my age and tyin' him up at night! And you can't even talk to me about it!"

His voice drops into the menacing growl he's perfected. "I never expected this neither. Shackin' up with some picture perfect farmer's daughter in some nice ass house. You think that was ever on my radar? Huh?"

She doesn't say anything. He bangs the chair against the table.

"I's never gonna tell anyone about this! I was just fine. Damn fine. Handling myself." He turns away for a second before swinging back around to jab a finger in her direction. "An' don't go makin' it out like none of this was your choice. Cause that's a damn lie."

Daryl is close, his face is inches from hers, "You're the one who kissed me, you're the one who held my hand, moved into my place, you. You chose that."

"I might done all that, but you wanted it Daryl." Her voice is low and even.

He huffs, "I never woulda if you didn't make me." He turns and goes to the door. "I gotta go."

He doesn't watch her shoulders drop, or see her face turn from angry to worried.

"Don't just storm outta here. Where're you going?"

He can't ignore the slight panic in her voice at the notion that he's just disappearing off on his own. He hates that the world has done that to her, that he did that to her. "I'll be at Rick's."

After the door closes behind him Beth moves to the window. She watches him knock. The light flicks on and she sees two figures descend the stairs. The door opens and Daryl goes inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Beth sleeps on the couch, she knows their bed would be too big and too empty. She wakes up when the front door opens just before dawn.

He stands in the doorway, looking her over. He's tired, the kind that comes from sleeping alone on a couch instead of in a tangled mess of naked arms and legs, tired like her. His jaw tenses as he chews his lip. Daryl watches her sit up and rub the sleep from her eyes. "I'm going with Rick. On a run."

"Okay." Her voice is low.

"Michonne is gonna check those traps," He clears his throat, "I… guess… if you wanna…"

"Okay, I'll go with her."

"A'right." He's looking at her, waiting for something. She can tell by the way he hovers in the entry way, his eyes darting around the room.

"Daryl?"

"Mmm?" He glances up at her.

"Be safe."

His shoulders drop a little and he looks up at her again. "Okay." He turns to go to the door, but then swings back around to place a quick kiss to the side of her head. "You too."

Michonne is knocking on the door a few minutes after he leaves. She's dressed and ready to go, watching quietly while Beth stumbles around the house. The woods are quiet, their boots are making small squelching noises in the dew damp leaves.

"Did he say anything to you this morning?"

Beth's head snaps up. "What do you mean?"

"Daryl. He didn't come over for popcorn and painting nails. You fought?"

"You were there? I thought you were staying…"

"I've been staying with Rick."

"Oh." She's not sure what to say, she doesn't know what he might've said. "I'm just…trying to figure all this out. What he wants, how I fit in with it. I don't know what to do."

Michonne is quiet, resetting the trap and handing the rabbit to Beth. "I don't know if he has the kind of answers you want. He's showing you…what he wants?"

"Yeah, but…"

"I don't think he's got more than that for answers. Maybe you need to find your own?"

Beth looks around, she doesn't know how to do this. All the talk she ever had about sex and relationships never addressed figuring out compatibility, how to incorporate another person's taste with yours. All she ever got was 'Don't do it until you're married' and 'I wonder what it's like'.

"How?"

Michonne smiles a little at her, "Figure out what you like, show him. It's a give and take."

She can't help the blush that creeps up her cheeks, "I like…the stuff he likes. More than I ever woulda thought. But…I guess I don't know… how far I'm supposed to take it? How far he wants me to? I just don't get why…"

"Why he likes something isn't important. He let you know, trusted you with it. That's not easy for him."

"I know." She sighs, "I just want him to be happy, to make him happy."

"That's all he wants too. You'll figure it out."

* * *

"Were you surprised? That Michonne was there?"

Daryl shrugs, "Not really. Knew she hadda be staying somewhere. You been close with her for awhile." He taps his fingers on his knee. "Carl knows?"

"Yeah, he understands… I think."

"He's a smart kid." Daryl looks out the dirty car window, "M'not good at this," He glances over to Rick whose eyes are trained on the road in front of them. "Don't wanna fight with her."

"So don't."

"Wish it was that easy." Daryl sighs, "She's always asking questions, wanting to talk things through. I never did that, always just left before it could happen."

"You gonna leave?"

"No. Ain't leavin'. Not her."

Rick looks over to him. "Then you'll figure it out."

* * *

Beth cleaned the rabbits, split up the meat and brought some to Maggie. She was back home, cooking dinner and still feeling a little bit like they were just playing house. Fighting with Daryl left her feeling on edge, waiting for the axe to drop.

She hears the click of the lock and the door opening. He coughs a little and waits to see if she heard.

"I'm here."

"Gonna shower. Everything went good, just messy."

"No hot water today."

"S'alright." She can tell he's standing by the stairs, "Left a box by the door."

He's gone up the stairs by the time she comes out into the hall. His boots have been wiped clean and are on the rug by the door. The box is full, a few spices, a package of underwear for each of them, a couple books, some canned vegetables, two bottles of shampoo, and a sweater that she thinks is cashmere. In the bottom of the box there are two ties, black. Something every man had in his closet. Every man except for Daryl Dixon. She knows the only time he ever wore a tie was when he had to go to court for a parking ticket, and even then it was a clip on.

Beth pulls them out of the box, unraveling each to see it's length. She stretches them taught in her hands, there's no give like with the t-shirt. She can picture the slight shine of the dark material against his tanned skin and knows exactly why he kept them.

They eat dinner and she's sitting next to him like always. The tension from the night before is still lingering between them but it's dissipating. He keeps looking up at her like he's about to say something, but ducks his head back down.

"M'sorry. Shouldn'ta left like that." It comes out mumbled.

Beth is a little shocked, she hadn't expected him to say it first. "I am too. For getting all worked up."

He nods, "I don't like fighting with you."

She smiles, "Me either. I love you."

"Love you too." He kisses her, softly on her lips. "I wanted… all that stuff. I mean… you made me want it… in a good way."

"I know. I wouldn't change anything."

He nods. "Me neither." He kisses her again, his fingers teasing along the hem of her shirt, silently asking permission.

Beth arches her hips up to his touch, his carefulness always surprises her. The way his rough hands ghost so lightly over her skin, barely touching and leaving her skin tingling for more. His hand slides up under her bra and teases her nipple between his fingers. She moves onto his lap and moans when he takes that same nipple between his lips. One hand grasps onto her thigh and the other pulls her closer.

She leans back, puts her weight on the table, testing it. It seems good enough. "Put me on the table."

He looks up at her and lets her breast pull slowly out of his mouth as he lifts her from the chair to the edge of the table. Beth shimmies out of her faded jeans and settles with one foot on each of their chairs. He runs his hands along the insides of her thighs and drops to his knees in front of her. Daryl drags his nose up her leg, letting his breath fall hot on her skin. His hand touches the patch of soft curls and rubs the heel of his palm against her, he can feel her arousal slick and warm against his hand. He slides a finger down over her clit and pushes two inside her before dipping his head down. She's moaning and clenching around his fingers, anxious and begging him for more, but he just waits for a minute, breathes in the scent of her before grazing his teeth against her and sliding his tongue inside.

His fingers pump in and out of her while his tongue and teeth nip and lick every bit of her he can. When he pulls her clit between his teeth and sucks hard she cries out his name and tangles her hand in his hair. He feels her tightening around him as he pushes deeper inside her, finding the spot he knows is just at the end of his reach. All it takes is a little pressure from his fingertips and another pull of his teeth and flick of the tongue and she's sucking in sharp breaths as she pulses around him. Her thighs are trembling and the noises she's making have his dick twitching against his pants. He laps up the small burst of warm wet that only he has been able to bring out of her. Beth whimpers as his tongue and lips move over her oversensitive skin.

"Daryl…"

He leans back on his heels, she watches his tongue run over his lips before he pulls the bottom one into his mouth. His hand rakes over his scruffy beard and she can't take her eyes off him as he licks up every last drop of her.

"Com'ere." She tugs a little at his hair, it's the only part of him she can easily grab, but he stands and takes a step towards her leaving just enough room for her to reach down and unzip his pants. Her hand palms his dick through the thin cotton boxers he has on.

The height of the table is perfect, he fits right into her. Her body is different, more pliant, impossibly softer, while she's still riding out the after effects of her orgasm. He's rubbing against all the right places, it feels like every inch of her is just aching for more of him. He's thrusting up and every time he's hitting that spot inside her. The next thing she knows her tired muscles are clenching up again, seeking purchase against his movements inside her. She hooks one leg behind his back, the other forces the chair to slide a few inches across the floor. Daryl doesn't miss a beat and grabs her thigh, leaning them both a little more over the table. She grabs his chin and pushes her lips onto his, the taste of her still lingers there.

"I wanna feel you cum."

He would never say no, not to her, not like this. He doesn't think about consequences or precautions, all he does is tighten his grip on her thigh and bury his face in the soft skin of her neck, biting down just a little when his orgasm races through him. His body tenses and he holds her close to him as he evens out, the body heat, the closeness, feels even better, more intense after a night apart.

"I never had make-up sex before." Beth's tone is light, joking. "Maybe we should fight more often."


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Beth rushes out the door, he watches her dress from the under the warmth of their comforter, arm slung across his forehead to block out the early morning light. She helps teach at the makeshift school three days a week. He has a patrol soon with Rick and sets about getting dressed after he hears the front door click closed. He can smell the coffee that she brewed and knows he'll go downstairs to find enough for him and for Rick with the mugs and sugar already laid out on the counter. What he doesn't expect, after he lets Rick in, is that box he left in the entry way sitting right next to the coffee pot on the kitchen counter. The food and spices have been tucked away, lined up in their neat cabinets. He saw one of the books on her nightstand and assumes the rest are on the shelf in the living room. She put the underwear in the dresser and hung the sweater in the mostly empty closet. The shampoo is probably in the bathroom, on that shelf in the shower, but he doesn't dwell on that. Sitting there on the edge of the kitchen counter is that damn cardboard box with the tail end of one silky, shiny, black tie pulled up over the side.

He stares at it while he sips his coffee and nearly spills it all over himself. When he turns off the warmer, his elbow slides against the fabric hanging off the edge. He pushes the box back, away from the spot he knows she purposefully left it. Where it would be front and center in his mind all day.

Daryl fumbles a little putting the key in to lock the door. His reactions are off. She knows, Beth knows why he brought those damn ties home. She knows and she left them there to to show him she does.

As they walk through the cordoned-off town Daryl can't keep flashes of her at bay. His eyes flick around, catching details here and there but hardly stringing anything together like he normally does. Her warm, low voice is filling his ears when they walk past the water filtration system. He can practically feel her hair skim across his skin as he comes in and out of the shade. He's staring in the window of the school, nearly trips over a curb, aching for her to just walk by when Rick says something about checking the south gate. He follows along, every time he catches his hand in the corner of his eye he thinks about her holding his wrist, he pictures the dark fabric keeping him still.

It's one of those images. The easy one of her next to him, he can almost feel the pressure on his joint, but then Rick's yelling.

And dammit he was off somewhere, not paying attention to what he was doing.

Somehow they're outside the gates.

Rick's on the ground, pushing a walker back with his bare hands.

Daryl finally focuses and puts a bolt through it's deteriorating skull.

It takes them awhile to get back, Rick's limping along, babying a pulled muscle. Daryl's dragging his feet next him, babying a bruised conscience.

By the time he gets home she's already been there a few hours. Her bright greeting is met with little more than a grunt. He doesn't thank her for dinner or tell her she didn't have to cook. He doesn't tell her about his day or ask about hers. He definitely doesn't mention the box on the counter. The damn box that left him a mess all day, put him in a fog, filled the air around him with nothing but her and even after he slipped up it's still sitting there, on the counter and in his mind.

She asked him how it went and now his answers are short. She hears the lightly veiled shame when he tells her Rick got hurt. She can feel the bite in his tone and see the anger and self-pity in his eyes. Beth can also see the want and pleading behind them. She forces herself to relax, let him vent out these hot-headed reactions to whatever he thinks he did wrong. She reminds herself that it's not her he's mad at, it's himself.

Beth lets her words try to comfort him. Her gentle phrases get brushed off and so do her soft hands. He goes to bed before her and sleeps facing the wall.


	8. Chapter 8

It's been two days since the incident with Rick and Daryl's still acting distant and withdrawn. His self imposed isolation is starting to grate on her. He hardly looks at her. She can see how badly he wants her to take control. She is starting to see how every short sentence and biting remark, every dish left out and shirt thrown on the floor, every little thing he has been doing to rile her up is him pleading with her to do something.

After dinner on the third night he just sits and lets her clear the table. Daryl doesn't even move to bring her his plate, just drums his fingers on the tabletop.

Beth stands and goes over to the box on the counter. She pulls out the ties and slides them across the table. Daryl barely looks at her when they end up in front of him.

"I love the sweater," She lets her hand brush his, sweeping the tie over knuckles, the silky fabric is cool against his skin. "We were running out of shampoo."

"Mmhmm."

"Always need more canned things, spices and underwear too." She lets her touch linger on his forearm. "Books are always good, especially if it's raining."

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure what these are for."

His cheeks have taken on a slight red hue, his voice cracked just a bit, he's fidgeting in his seat. She pushes down the feeling that she's being dramatic, his reaction is exactly what she wanted and it's enough to keep her going.

"You don't need them for work. I'm not going to wear them. What are they for Daryl?" She let's her fingers press into his wrist, her voice is low in his ear.

"For you." His quiet voice eggs her on.

"Me? What am I gonna do with them?"

His breath catches in his throat. He's pushing his lip in and out from between his teeth. His thinned out work pants do little to hide what she's doing to him. "Use them… on me."

"But you don't wear ties."

His eyes are pleading when he glances up at her, he knows what she wants him to say, but it's so damn hard to get the words out. Words that show how desperate he is, he knows his voice can't make them sound any other way.

"Beth…" She can see embarrassment warring with desire on his face.

"You don't wear ties, Daryl." Her voice is a whisper, it's soft, right next to his ear. "It's okay… just tell me what to do with them. I want to know. I want to do it."

His words aren't what she expects. They come out soft and almost fragile, but the pure want and need in them overshadows his vulnerability. His eyes are closed and his head is down.

"Take care'a me."

She pauses and lets his statement sink in, she has to take in a deep breath to hide the emotion his few words have brought to the surface. He's asking, his soft words are begging her to keep him in line.

She clears her throat, "Take care of you how, Daryl?"

He shifts again in the chair, she uses his name and he has to answer. The palm of his hand presses on the crotch of his pants, "T…tie…tie me."

Beth replaces his hand with hers.

He groans at the way the heel of her palm immediately finds the base of his cock and presses down. She's given him the pressure he was looking for but pinned him still at the same time. The lose pants are hardly a barrier for her to contend with.

"Keep you still, have you do only what I want you to."

"Mmm."

"Words, Daryl." She reminds him, her voice sounds stern and harsh in her ears.

"Yes." He groans as he bucks his hips up a fraction of an inch. "I want you… need… I just need….something."

Beth twists her wrist, not adding pressure, just changing it. "S'that why you've been acting like a jerk?"

Daryl can feel the embarrassment heat his face. Flashes of how short and gruff he's been, trying to get a reaction, spring into his mind. He wanted her to yell, to get mad. He's been begging her to do something other than say it wasn't his fault. He's been trying to get her to lift the weight off his chest, he can feel guilt still sitting there, he can feel the rest of himself spinning out of control around it. The other day with Rick was like slipping another ten pounds onto the barbell that's been pinning him down for as long as he can remember. Everything is filling up all the space in his chest and making it impossible for his lungs to expand, he just doesn't know how to ask her to fix it.

His voice is a whisper, "Yes."

"What can I do?"

She's in front of him, hand still on his crotch. Daryl pushes forward, rubs his face against her chest, "I just… need to know. Need to know that you're… in contr… feel like I'm spinnin'."

He's standing in the middle of their bedroom taking off his pants.

"What're you gonna say… if you need me to stop what I'm doing?"

He can finally swallow the lump in his throat. "Red." His voice croaks out the word.

"Red. Okay, good. Like a stop sign."

He doesn't say anything about remembering it from that video he had watched a hundred times over until the tape started dragging.

She's nervous, unsure what to do but at the same time she can see his want, his need to confirm that someone will guide him. She can see his need for someone to stop him from feeling like he's spinning out of control, let him know he's not alone.

Daryl's naked, standing there, just looking at her, waiting.

Her voice drops, low and commanding.

"Get on the bed."

Her own words surprise her but his immediate response is reassuring. He braces his strong arms on the mattress and spreads his legs just a bit to balance himself on all fours. She watches his biceps twitch as he clenches each fist. He's hard and Beth lets her hand brush against him as she moves around him. Daryl arches his back and pushes into her touch when she cups the curve of his ass.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" Beth struggles to keep herself calm, to push her nerves and soft voice away. He's rocking his hips and she can barely fight the way her muscles are clenching in on themselves just watching him.

He doesn't say anything, just slowly shakes his head.

"Lay down, on your back." It's hard, to keep her words from coming out like questions. She so afraid he's going to start laughing at her, but all he does is slowly lower himself back onto the bed. She takes her time, makes sure he watches her tie each hand to the bed posts. Daryl's eyes are zeroed in on her, his pupils are dark and wide.

"What do you think I'm gonna do?" Beth runs a hand down the sensitive inside of his defined arm.

"I'unno." His words come out throaty and he closes his eyes in a hard blink.

The same hand makes it's way down his side, teasing a small circle on his hip, before dipping down to rub hard at the inside of his thigh. Daryl groans and his cock twitches.

She's on her knees next to him, and when Beth leans over his spread body to mirror the touch on his other side her hair barely grazes across his chest.

"Beth…"

She smiles at him. Her neat fingers leave his waistline. They tortuously abandon his hips and thighs and move to make tight figure eights around his nipples. Her short nails make his skin tingle, each time she crosses over a scar the sensation changes his expression. She watches his dick jump when she pinches each pebbled point.

Daryl's breathing is getting heavier and he arches up, trying to find contact, when she straddles him. Beth lowers her weight onto his thighs, just above his knees, and strokes gentle hands down his sides. Every fiber of his body is aching for her to touch him in the one place she has ignored and he pulls in a deep breath when her hands carefully push his legs apart as much as she can with her still on top.

She runs her nails over his balls, carefully rolling and tugging just enough to hear the small noises he makes whenever she gives him attention there. He's aching, needy and practically begging just inches away from her touch.

"What do you want?"

He bucks his hips, "Please?"

She pulls on his balls, holding them just a little firmer than before.

"What?"

"Beth…"

She moves her hands. One goes to press on his hip, reminding him to keep still. The other… the other hand moves so slowly. It barely touches the hair on his balls as she carefully ghosts one finger the length of his dick. She never touches him, but god, he swears he can feel the electric burn of that one perfect finger as it follows the pulsing vein up before swirling around the swollen head.

"I'll be good."

His voice is small and sincere, more desperate than she's ever heard.

Beth runs a hand gently over the trail of hair on his stomach. She watches him, the way his muscles have tensed up, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth, the way his chest and broad shoulders expand with every gasping breath he drags in.

"I know."

Daryl can feel himself twitch from the inside out with the small touch. He's aching and his hands are still tied. His shoulders are starting to burn and he fidgets against the threatening cramps.

"I'm gonna untie you. Leave your hands where I put them, alright?"

"A'right."

Her fingers quickly loosen the silky knots and Beth watches him try to find a comfortable position within the parameters she's given him. His hands have moved lower, closer together, but still above his head. He bucks his hips, silently asking for her to touch him.

"How do you feel?"

Daryl grunts, "Beth…"

"How do you feel?"

"I wanna cum."

His words come out quiet, voice rough, eyes clamped closed.

"Look at me Daryl."

He does.

She reaches to move the stray pieces of hair from his eyes.

"You aren't gonna finish. Not tonight."

Daryl lets out a low groan, his cock jumps at the tone of her voice and he doesn't know if he can do what she's asking.

"Please, Beth."

"You're going to go take a quick shower and come back here. You aren't gonna cum until tomorrow. Show me you can be good. Do you think you can do that?"

Her voice is firm but the question is real. He can hear the underlaying insecurities and knows she's giving him the opportunity to back out even though he practically begged her for this. He can also hear the want in her voice. He can see it reflected back at him through her eyes.

He pulls in a deep breath and lets his answer out with it.

"Yes."


	9. Chapter 9

He wakes up with a hard on. It seems like it's been forever since that happened. Daryl can hear the shower turn on and see the light coming from the open bathroom door. It doesn't take long at all for him to slide through the curtain and wrap his arms around her hips.

Her hair is already washed, he can smell her shampoo. The residue of it on her body lets his hands glide smoothly over skin. Beth can feel the too tight grip of his fingers digging into her hip, the way his other hand runs across her ribs until he finds her breast. Daryl's head is tucked into her neck, his hair is hanging down over her shoulder, sticking to her skin as his mouth works over the sensitive spots that he knows follow the curves of her body.

When he starts rubbing circles over her nipple with the rough pad of his thumb she arches back into him. She doesn't mind the way his dick twitches against her ass. She doesn't think to notice it again when his hand leaves her breast to slide down her stomach and into her. He dips one, and then two, of his strong fingers into her. It's just enough to tease, make her wish she hadn't decided to make him wait until tonight.

He turns her, changing the angle just slightly so the stream of water pounds an unrelenting rhythm against her clit. Daryl rubs around where the stream of water hits, he alternates between teasing touches and just enough pressure until she's writhing in his arms, knees spread so wide she can barely hold herself up. Her words are coming out a jumbled mess, entwined with low moans and desperate whimpers.

"Daryl." Pleading.

"Yes, there." Surprised and breathy.

"Oh! So good, Daryl…" Low and punctuated with a moan as she collapses against him.

He shifts her, just so she's not rubbing against him, and holds her body close for a second before stepping out of the tub.

The water turns cold. It washes the flush of pleasure from her skin and sends it down the drain with the soap suds. She dresses and heads out the door. The only evidence of left of that morning is Daryl, awkwardly and obediently tucking himself, still hard, into his pants.

* * *

He goes out and sets new snares after she leaves for work. The morning drags on. He's back home, cleaning some rabbit, sharpening broad heads, and checking on the meat in the smoker when she stops home for lunch.

"How are ya?" She kisses the side of his mouth. She's got that sweater on.

He clears his throat, "Keep thinkin'a you in the shower."

"How about thinkin' of me on the table instead?"

He can still imagine the taste of her on his lips when she leaves.

That afternoon is hard.

* * *

He's constantly shifting himself around, trying to find a position that relieves some of the pressure in balls, a way to stand where the fabric of his pants doesn't grate against his over sensitive skin. He doesn't touch himself, years of living in close proximity to so many people has made it just a little easier to ignore his wants. The thought of her being home soon makes his cock strain against the metal teeth of his zipper. He goes to the front door as soon as he hears her key in the lock.

"Missed you." He touches the ends of her hair.

She smiles at him, "I missed you too. Anything going for dinner?"

"Got some venison needs to be cooked."

"Sounds good to me." She pauses and looks him straight in the eyes, "Were you good?"

Daryl's ears turn red. He averts his eyes, "Mmhmm."

She doesn't say anything else, just brushes past him into the kitchen. The same way she always has. He stands in the doorway and watches her pull out a pan. She cooks dinner and sets his plate next to hers, just like she always does.

"Got some rabbit, stuff in the smoker looks good."

"Hopefully this winter is easier."

He watches her bring her food to her mouth, the way her lips fit around her fork. The way her tongue darts out to lick them clean.

He put his fork down, carries his dish to the sink and comes back for hers.

"Beth…"

"You wanna go upstairs?"

She asks him to rub her shoulders, over her sweater. Daryl's hand moves to the soft skin on the back of her neck and she brushes him off.

"Think about what's under my clothes."

He runs a hand down the length of her arm, imagining the soft feeling of the fine blonde hair that lines her skin there.

The cashmere is soft, but not warm like her skin. He can't see the way her ribs rise with each breath but he can picture it in his mind.

He knows exactly where her nipples sit in her bra. Even under her clothes each breast fits perfectly under each of his hands.

Daryl's not ready for it when she turns around and presses her mouth to his. Her tongue runs along his bottom lip before she pulls it into her mouth, he groans at the sensation. His hand goes to her hair but she moves it back to her arm.

"Not until I say."

He presses his forehead to her shoulder and nods.

She tells him to undress and watches him carefully as he does. When he finally takes off his boxers she can't help pulling her lip into her mouth. He's hard, his skin is flushed red with desire, everything about him is begging to be touched.

So she does.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed. Beth drops down to her knees in front of him, her hand rests on his hip.

"Wait for me to tell you, can you do that?"

He nods and blows out a deep breath.

She cups his heavy balls in one hand and circles two fingers of the other around the base of his cock. He arches his back and pushes up into her touch. He's been waiting all day to feel this, something other than his pants rubbing against him. "Not till I say. Tell me."

"I…I'll be good."

Her mouth is around him.

She moves it up and down a few times, changing the pressure and swirling her tongue around his tip. Daryl can't hold back the low whine that comes from the back of his throat.

He tenses every muscle he can, desperately trying to obey her, keeping everything at bay until…

Her tongue flicks the underside of the head and she rubs her hand up the length of him one last time. "Daryl, it's okay. Cum now."

He does. It's intense, almost painful and he can't help the higher pitched noise that accompanies his twitching muscles and the dull ache in his balls.

She's still touching him, hands still keeping him where she wants him to be.

"That's it. That's my good boy."

He pulls in several deep breaths. His body is still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His eyes are still closed.

"Daryl, look at me."

It takes him a minute, but when he does open his eyes to see her, he can't blink away the tears. A few spill down his cheeks and some cling to his eyelids.

Beth doesn't know what to do, his expression is so open. Eyes wide, taking her in, all of his focus is on her. She slowly moves to clean him, he doesn't flinch or pull away when she runs his worn shirt on his over sensitive skin. "Good, you did so good Daryl."

He can't help the way his chest expands at her sincere tone. He presses his eyes closed again and doesn't open them until she's pulling him up the bed, settling her head on his chest, and tangling their legs with the sheets.

"Was that…"

He cuts her off with a gentle squeeze. "S'perfect."

Her fingers tangle in the hair on his breastbone. "You okay?"

He sighs a little, plays with the ends of her hair. He was never good at staying completely still. "Just intense."

Beth tilts her head up to look at him. He can see the question in her eyes.

His voice goes soft, "You…said. Called me yours, your good boy."

"I did." She touches his jaw, "Is that what…?"

She gets her answer when he turns his head, embarrassed that those simple words meant more to him than anything else she could say.

"S' okay, Daryl. You are good." She traces her fingers over the place where she can see the muscles in his jaw tensing as he bites his lip. "And you are mine."


	10. Chapter 10

He's quiet in the morning. She heard him pad down the stairs and can feel his presence in the kitchen door. She lays his plate on the table and watches him for a minute, he looks exposed, tender around the edges.

"Mornin'." He mumbles as he sits.

She smiles at him pressing a kiss to his head, "G'morning."

He looks up from his breakfast every now and then, lets his eyes drift over her.

"I was nervous. Last night."

Daryl's eyes stay on her as he pulls his finger out of his mouth and uses it to pick up the crumbs on the plate. "I'm sorry." Daryl shakes his head a little, "I shouldn'ta asked you…"

"No, I mean… I liked it. I… I just don't know if I'm… doing the right stuff? Saying the right things."

She watches him, his mouth working over his bottom lip.

"I don't want to… take anything to far. Make you do something you wouldn't want."

"Mmhmm."

"I don't want you to regret lettin' me…"

His eyes snap up to hers, he's serious and determined. She knows that look.

"I trust you." He swallows and moves around in his seat. "I'd do anything you asked me. No such thing as regret, not when it comes to me and you, Beth."

She breaks eye contact with him, pushes the eggs around on her plate. "I made you cry."

He grunts and brings his plate to the sink. His hands brace on counter and she can see the muscles tense in his arms. He turns his head towards her, but keeps his eyes on the floor. "No one ever said that to me. Least…not that I remember, not like that."

"It's true, Daryl. You are good."

"Stop." His voice is strained.

Beth moves to stand next to him, lets her hand cover his on the counter for a minute before turning away.

"You are."

* * *

Its a few days later, the words have settled in. After they've canned too many tomatoes from Maggie, after they had sex on the couch in the middle of the afternoon, after they've fallen into an easy pattern. Beth's gentle praise whispered quietly in his ear. Her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. He's starting to rely on these things to ground him and it feels good. It feels right, like he's finally fitting somewhere.

She realizes all it takes is that slight pressure on the inside of his wrist, the same spot she had accidentally bruised that first night, to make him pull his lip into his mouth and focus on her. His shoulders drop, his body relaxes, his eyes stay trained on hers. She knows that he hears her, he might not listen, but he hears her.

The simple action is all it takes to pull him out of the self imposed separation and bring him right there with her. Beth never thought she could exert this kind of power over another person. It thrills her for a minute each time, it's just a minute though, before she's sobered by the thought that he needs it. He needs her reassurance, he needs her.

She can do that, make the decisions, take control when they both need her too. He taught her, he's still teaching her. She has it in her to be that person, she's known it for awhile. But, finally she realizes how much she loves it, and how he needs it. How it's a part of him that she didn't know about, didn't expect and it's a part of her too. She loves him even more for that, for giving it to her. Not just the immense boost of confidence, not just the self-realization, but his trust and love, for giving her himself, for letting Beth give herself to him.

He's sitting on the couch, running wax over the string of a compound bow he found when she moves from the spot she's been sitting in reading.

"Daryl?"

"Mmm?"

She looks nervous and it makes him nervous too. He can feel his heart rate speed up.

"Gimme your hand." He doesn't hesitate and reaches his left hand out to her. He doesn't want to hesitate, ever again, not with her.

She rubs his work-worn palm, drags her fingers over his and moves up to his wrist.

"I wanna give you something…if it's…" She sighs and looks up at him. "If it's not what you want, you have to tell me. Alright?"

"Mmhmm, Alright."

He keeps his eyes on her as she lifts his hand. Beth's lips rest just over the joining of his hand and arm. She undoes the metal snaps on one of her bracelets. It's a small leather cuff that she's been wearing for as long as he can remember. When she presses the snaps closed on him it hurts for a second, the way she has to press into his tendons.

"It's just… I know you like when I hold you there. It's kinda like, I'll be there all the time….or when…whenever you're wearing it." She looks at him. "You don't have to wear it all the time." Her voice drops to a throaty whisper, "Not unless you want to."

Daryl's hand moves to trace over the simple bracelet, the small gold 'B' sewn into the brown leather. It's a little too tight, the worn trinket having formed itself to her smaller wrist. The pressure is perfect, just enough where he can barely feel his pulse against it. He closes his eyes and nods.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm."

"Daryl."

He blinks up at her for a second before pressing his face into her shoulder. He wants to tell her how perfect it is. How her giving this to him, this small scrap of herself wrapped firmly around him, means more than anything else he owns.

"Thank you."


End file.
